Just Like Heaven
by hotstuffhufflepuff
Summary: "Why are we doing this?" She whispers. "I don't know," He says. "Fun?" "Somebody's going to get hurt." He laughs gently and lifts her chin to kiss her again. "Darling," He says gruffly, "You don't need to worry about me like that." { Fred/Hermione. EWE. Will be published in five parts. I own nothing. }
1. Part 1

The first time he kisses her, it's an accident.

Well, sort of.

It is the middle of the night and he shouldn't be roaming the hallways, but to be fair, neither should she. The rest of the prefects had finished their rounds nearly twenty minutes ago, which is why he assumed he'd be able to surreptitiously make his way to the kitchens in safety.

Looking back, he figures he should've known she'd make extra rounds.

He skirts the corner, glancing over his shoulder to ascertain he's alone, only to collide with her. She teeters and he grabs her hand to steady her, and once she recovers, she peers at him for a perplexed moment before her alarm moves over to make room for her fortitude. Her eyes narrow and her mouth drops open, and Fred knows he has to act quickly. Her screeches are effective enough to disturb the slumber of the entire castle, and we can't have that, can we?

So, swiftly, impulsively, his hand snakes around her waist and tugs her towards him and he slants his lips across hers.

There's the expected rigidity, accompanied by a surprised yelp, but then she does the last thing he expected - she balls the front of his robes in the fist that's not gripping her wand and kisses him back. Hard.

He doesn't know how long they stand there, moving in sync with each other. Next thing he's conscious of, he's pulling away to breathe and she's got her back against a wall. Both of his hands are resting on her waist, and her free hand had travelled up to get tangled in his hair.

She looks up at him as if she's seeing him for the first time. "You kissed me."

He laughs, nervously, but only because he hasn't got a clue what to say.

She scurries out from under him, stammering, "U-um...Maybe - maybe we should pretend that didn't happen."

He isn't stupid. He knows she's thinking about Ron.

"Don't you want to take a stroll, love?" He drawls.

Her eyes narrow dangerously. "Get back to bed, Frederick Weasley,"

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. "How do you know it's not George?"

"Easy." She smirks back, a cocky grin he didn't know she was capable of. "George doesn't have a scar on his upper lip like you do."

She turns and flounces down the hallway towards the common room. He watches her until she's out of sight, and it isn't until then that he remembers why he's out of bed in the first place.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He gives her hell after that.

Every time he sees her, every chance he gets, it's a smirk, waggling his eyebrows, licking his lips.

Every time she sees him, it's color rushing to her face, her stomach doing somersaults, chewing on her lip subconsciously.

They both pray no one notices.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"Hermione,"

She sighs in annoyance and glares at Ron over the top of her book.

"Hermione," He whispers again.

"What?" She hisses back.

"I think Fred is staring at you."

His voice is dripping with worry, concern. Her face falls slightly, and she glances quickly, almost imperceptibly, across the common room where Fred is leaning against the window with George and Lee. Staring at her.

She returns her gaze to her book, but she's buzzing now, and she knows she can't concentrate on her book with the heat of his stare suffocating her like that. "Don't be silly," She murmurs, but she isn't sure if she's talking to Ron or herself.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He is in detention after setting off a few harmless Whizbangs, polishing picture frames by himself (since George had gotten away, the lucky bastard) when she taps him on the shoulder.

"Well, hey there." Fred says, smirking up at her from where he sits. "Here to distract me, are you?" He tosses the rag over his shoulder and the painting he'd been polishing groans. She smiles back. "Maybe if I'm lucky, you'll pull a few prefect strings to get me out of here." He waggles his eyebrows, and she rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling.

"I just thought you might want to know that it goes a lot faster if you put a Skurge charm on the rag."

She smirks at the disbelieving look on his face and turns to leave.

"Hermione Granger," he calls after her, and she spins around again. "You amaze me."

There are other people in the hallway, people looking, but she smiles radiantly at him anyway.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

She is crying.

He notices it when he subconsciously glances at her during dinner (which he finds himself doing more and more frequently lately), and it jolts him into dropping his fork. Later, he will find out that it's because of something Ron said, but at the moment, he has no idea. All he knows is that the sight of Hermione Granger crying sends sharp bristles of icy anger through his veins, and he has a sudden insatiable desire to fix it. Whatever it is.

So when she pushes away from the table and storms out of the Great Hall, he mutters some excuse to George about having left something in his dorm and he moves swiftly to follow her.

He is unable to catch up with her until they reach the third floor. "Hermione!" He calls. She spins around, wiping at her tears.

"Fred - ? What are you - ?"

He pulls her into a tight hug the instant he's close enough to do so, and she shatters. Her breaths come shakily, and with a hiccup, she wraps her arms around his waist.

His mind storms with a million different things he could say, but none of them seem right and none of them are enough, so he doesn't say anything.

She pulls away from him and she's smiling. And his heart does something funny, and he smiles back without even realizing it.

"Thank you." She says.

"Any time, love," he responds.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

A week later, she bumps into him in the library. He tries to make it seem like it's a coincidence.

The way he's grinning down at her, like nothing else in the world matters, makes her heart twist. She simultaneously feels like she's lost herself and found herself.

He tugs her by the wrist into a more secluded corner of the library and kisses her. This time, it is gentler, longer, softer - but it leaves her just as breathless.

They stand together for a long while afterwards, her eyes boring into his chest and his chin resting on her head.

"Fred," She whispers, "Why are we doing this?"

"I don't know," He says. "Fun?"

"Somebody's going to get hurt."

He laughs gently and lifts her chin to kiss her again. "Darling," He says gruffly, "You don't need to worry about me like that."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Without noticing, she begins looking for opportunities to be alone with him, hoping naively that he'll kiss her again. She tells herself she is being stupid. A boy like him could never love a girl like her.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Without noticing, he begins looking for her every time he enters a room, smiling wistfully whenever he sees something that reminds him of her. He tells himself he shouldn't feel like this. A girl like her could never love a boy like him.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Grimmauld Place is cavernous and dusty and dark, not at all like Christmas should feel, and Fred stares at the ceiling while his twin's breath is slow and steady. The Healers say that Dad will make it, and he is not surprised. He never thought he wouldn't. He tells her this, and she smiles and slips her hand into his. She tells him his optimism is one of her favorite things about him. She says it with surety, as if she's thought about it. His heart skips a beat.

When he passes her in the kitchen on New Year's Eve, he says in a low voice, "Garden. Midnight."

Later from across the room, their eyes lock. She gives him the smallest, most furtive, most intoxicating smile.

He wonders if he'll last until midnight.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

No one notices Fred slip away from the party at 11:48. He waits in the yard with his back to the door.

He doesn't turn, even when he hears the door open and shut or the snow crunching under her feet as she approaches him. He glances at the Muggle watch his parents had gotten him for Christmas. 11:54.

"Hey." She says. Her voice is soft, enclosing a tender sort of affection he'd never heard her use with anyone else.

"Hey."

She is looking at him. In his peripheral vision, he can see that smile still on her face.

"Are you going to let Ron kiss you at midnight?" He asks her.

Her smile vanishes.

"What? Um - I don't - well - um," Her face is red, but he isn't sure if it's from embarrassment or the cold. "No."

"Can I kiss you at midnight?"

"In front of everyone?"

"We don't have to go back inside." He checks his watch. 11:57. "There's only three minutes left of the year."

She hums contentedly and looks up at the sky. He finally looks at her, sees the ghost of the smile on her face, and he wants to tell her he loves her but he doesn't know what love is.

He shifts his weight so he can grab her hand from her pocket. Her hand is warmer than his, softer than his, but she squeezes his hand anyway.

"I -" She tries to say something, but it catches in her throat.

11:59.

"Hermione?" He turns to face her and grabs her by the elbow. She looks up at him, wide-eyed, vulnerable, and his heart aches for her.

In the house, his family and friends starts chanting, counting down the last seconds of the year.

"10...9...8..."

"I'm sorry." He says. "For everything."

She must think he's trying to end things, because her mouth falls open slightly and hurt washes over her features.

"7...6...5..."

"No, no, no," He gathers her in his arms. "I don't - Ron - he...and you...Hermione..."

"Fred -"

"4...3...2..."

He pulls away from the hug and looks down at her. His blue eyes rapidly explore her brown ones, searching for a sign, anything that's true, that's real.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he swoops down and kisses her like the world is ending. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him closer to her, clawing at him hungrily, and it drives him mad. As his family inside cheers, welcoming the New Year, Fred and Hermione steal each other's breath.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers. The cold air stings his lips. "Fred," She whispers, almost gasps, as she's still trying to catch her breath.

"Hermione,"

"Where will we be in a year?"

He isn't sure if her question is rhetorical or not. She laughs wryly, sliding her hands down his chest.

"Hopefully right here."

He hadn't meant to say it out loud. When he does, she jerks her head up sharply to look at him. She presses a lingering kiss to his jaw, gently, before going back inside.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Back at Hogwarts, things are painfully uncertain. The air cracks with electricity whenever he looks at her.

She tries to lose herself in the library. Drumming her fingers on the spines of books, reading pages upon pages until it all becomes one giant story, a blur, with him in every sentence. She breathes the words in, extracting what strength she can from the ink, consciously noting and ignoring the fact that her veins are full of stories and words and facts and Fred.

On the Tuesday of the second week back, she finds him in between the shelves. The real him. The amorous smile he wears has never seen anyone else but her, and there is nothing she can do to stop herself from smiling back.

"What are you reading?"

The book in her hands feels heavier than she remembers. "It's - um - a Muggle book. About psychology." When he doesn't respond, she continues. Rambling. "The chapter I'm on right now is about how the brain processes emotions. For example, chemical depression is merely a lack of serotonin and dopamine in the brain, both of which are chemicals, and this can lead to..." She looks up at him earnestly, suddenly realizing that this could all be going over his head.

He is leaning against the bookshelf next to her. When he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"What does it say about love?"

He meets her more often after that.


	2. Part 2

In the frequent moments where Hermione is honest with herself, she admits that she's terrified.

That this could likely be some very elaborate and devastatingly humiliating prank, that Fred has no definitive feelings for her. Or any feelings at all.

But there's an exhilarating fear behind the fire in his eyes every time he smiles at her that convinces her otherwise.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

In the rare moments where Fred is honest with himself, he admits that he's terrified.

That this would surely end with Fred taking his heart off his sleeve and giving it fully to Hermione, that he'll screw up and she'll end up hating him and he'll never be able to get his heart back from her.

But there's an indubitable amazement deep within her eyes every time she looks up at him after he kisses her that convinces him otherwise.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He doesn't know how it happened.

It is Valentine's Day, he is on his back on a bed in the Room of Requirement, and she is on top of him.

She is kissing him hungrily, and as he moves his lips down her throat, she sits up, her chest heaving.

"Fred," She says. Their shirts have long been discarded. "Is this a bad idea?"

Fred's eyes widen. "No, no, no, no. This is a _very good idea_."

She laughs, but snuggles in next to him with her head on his chest. Their bare skin rubbing together does nothing to appease the heat bubbling in his stomach.

"I'm only kidding," He says, nuzzling into her hair. "We can stop if you're not comfortable."

She cranes her neck to look up at him. "I'm sorry, Fred."

"Don't be sorry, love," He tells her. He means it. She knows this.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Fred gets this feeling in his stomach, in his heart, after a really steep dive on his broom. It's similar to the feeling he gets after a prank ensues flawlessly. It's similar to the feeling he gets when his entire family is laughing together.

It's similar to the feeling Hermione Granger gives him.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Hermione gets this feeling in her stomach, in her heart, after finishing an incredible book. It's similar to the feeling she gets when she admires her own completed work. It's similar to the feeling she gets when she gets a brand new spell right on the first time.

It's similar to the feeling Fred Weasley gives her.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

At DA meetings, they try to be subtle. He smiles at her a lot more than he probably should, and she is caught staring at him more than a few times, but nobody suspects anything. At least, as far as they know.

Her otter Patronus pirouettes through the air, taking a playful dive near Fred. He laughs. "Nice work, Granger." He winks at her.

His own silvery fox pranced over to her, nudging her hand with its nose before evaporating. Her eyes catch his. "Nice work, Weasley." She teases.

Later, as students are saying goodbye, their eyes meet again. Both know what the other is thinking.

 _My memories were about you._

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Excited whispers lure Hermione into the fourth-year girls' dorms. Ginny is sitting cross-legged on her bed, makeup case sprawled out in front of her.

She has a date with Michael Corner. Her confident grin wavers nervously and, in a lowered voice, she asks Hermione how far she's gone.

Hermione's face turns pink. She doesn't want to lie. "Well..."

"I mean, I know you snogged Viktor," Ginny interrupts. "But - I mean - did you two ever...?"

"No," Hermione answers firmly. "I've gone further, but not with Viktor. The closest I've come is snogging without shirts on, but I didn't want to and he-"

Ginny squeals, sticking her tongue out. "Please do _not_ talk about my brother that way!"

Hermione's eyes widen.

"And don't let Harry hear that either," Ginny says fervently. "He'll never be able to look at Ron again."

Oh.

Hermione's easy smile comes back. She wants to say, _Wrong brother._

She doesn't.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He doesn't know when or how the transition happened, but he realizes one day in Potions class that he and Hermione belong to each other. And he can't stop the ridiculously boyish grin that comes with this thought, and George, who regards their unsuccessful potion with a look of disgust, asks him what he's so happy about.

He can't even begin to explain. He couldn't, not even if he wanted to.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

The entire Gryffindor table is rather grumpy at breakfast due to Umbridge's latest irrefutably horrendous actions, and when she hears of it, Hermione nearly drops her glass of milk. "She gave you a _lifelong ban_ from Quidditch?"

Fred nods somberly. "Harry, George, and me."

"That's ridiculous!" She exclaims. "She's so _awful._ She doesn't even have the _jurisdiction – "_

"What do you care?" Ron interrupts. "You don't even like Quidditch!"

Hermione, turning faintly pink, shoots Ron a clearly exasperated glare. "That's beside the point."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Hermione sits cross-legged on her bed with four different books splayed open in front of her, her hair in a messy bun, and her bottom lip between her teeth.

She is quickly reciting potions ingredients under her breath repetitively, but is rudely interrupted when her chattier roommates come barging into the dorm. Hermione sighs in exasperation.

"He's so _cute,_ isn't he?" Lavender is giggling. From the look of their wind-blown hair, Hermione guesses that they're just returning from watching Gryffindor's Quidditch practice.

"How can you tell which one's cuter?" Parvati asks teasingly. "They're identical, aren't they?"

Hermione drops her wand.

"Well, yes." Lavender says, "But Fred smiles more than George does, have you noticed? And his hair is always just a little bit messier."

"Been studying the Weasley twins, have you?" Hermione hears herself say contemptuously. Lavender and Parvati both glance at her in surprise. She's never joined in their boy conversations before.

Lavender's smile is condescending. "They're _hot_ , Hermione. Not that you would know, of course." Parvati giggles.

Hermione stares at them with her jaw set. "What's that supposed to mean?" She demands.

"Oh, nothing," Lavender says primly. She and Parvati float away, airy and giggly and annoying. Hermione narrows her eyes at their backs, wishing that she could tell them, _"Oh, yeah? Well, Fred's spectacular at snogging, if you were curious. Also, you know what's better than a Quidditch player in uniform? A Quidditch player_ out _of uniform."_

But she doesn't. She knows she can't, but she smiles to herself at the thought.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"Are you ever going to _talk_ to him? Or would you rather just stare at him until he guesses that you like him?"

Ginny turns her gaze from Dean Thomas and shoots Ron a glare. "You're one to talk." She spits. "Do you think Hermione will wait around forever?"

The group laughs in spite of Ron, whose ears are turning pink. George is the only one who notices the wide-eyed look that passes on Fred's face.

Fred glances across the common room to Hermione, who is working on a Charms essay that isn't due for a week.

He thinks back to what she said after their first kiss in the library. _"Somebody's going to get hurt."_ It feels like ages ago.

Hermione glances up to meet his gaze, and she smiles at him.

He looks back at Ron, who is now sulking, and Fred feels hopeless.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He meets her in the Astronomy Tower some nights, and the smile that breaks on her face whenever she sees him ascending the stairs is the most breathtaking thing he's ever seen. It sends his heart into somersaults, and he feels stupid, but blissfully so. He's never felt like this before.

He isn't sure how to tell her that. He isn't sure if he should.

She teaches him about the stars and the constellations. She tells him about her favorite Muggle literature. He tells her what it was like to grow up in the wizarding world. He tells her his secrets to coming up with his own Charms. He tells her every joke he can think of, and she laughs at them even when they're not funny. She tells him her opinions on every issue there is, what she would do if she ran the Ministry. They tell each other their hopes and fears and dreams and everything in between. They do not know it, but this is just as good as saying "I love you."

One night in March, he steps into his dorm after kissing her goodnight. George rolls over to look at him.

"Where have you been?" He murmurs.

Fred doesn't answer. He doesn't know how.

"Is it Hermione?" George asks. Fred nods wordlessly. Sighing, George rolls onto his back. For the first time in his life, Fred doesn't know what his twin is thinking.

A long moment passes before George says, "I'm happy for you."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"George knows." Quickly, he adds, "I didn't tell him. He guessed. I think he's been -"

"Fred," She interrupts, smiling. "It's okay. I figured he'd be the first to find out. Besides, it might be nice to have someone on our side when everyone else finds out..."

"Everyone else - ?" He echoes. He hadn't even thought of that. Never even considered it.

"Obviously not right _now_ ," She says. "But...eventually...I mean, we can't keep it a secret forever, can we?"

He thinks of Ron.

"I guess not."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"She has _no right."_ Hermione seethes. "You know, Fred, when I got my Hogwarts letter, it all made sense. _That's_ why I never fit in in the Muggle world. _That's_ why I never had any friends. But here – in _this_ world, I'm nothing better than _dirt."_

He's sitting on a bench in the Room of Requirement and she is pacing the room, which seems to get larger and more cavernous the louder her voice gets.

"I cannot _stand_ that woman. She is evil, she is vile, and she's the _worst_ person I've _ever – "_

"Hermione," He says softly, rather suddenly, "do you want to dance with me?"

She looks at him blankly, but does not protest when he stands and grabs her right hand in his and rests his other hand on her waist.

He hums and dramatically waltzes her around the still-growing room, and soon, she is laughing, and Umbridge is forgotten.

They spin, and he dips her. When he brings her back up, she says, breathlessly, "Careful. Wouldn't want to be a blood traitor, now, would you?"

He laughs and presses his lips to hers, with a bent finger under her chin. "More than anything." He whispers.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He's charmed his book to open to the exact page number he says, and people are watching in fascination as he calls out random numbers, and his textbook obeys – but only if it's his voice.

Hermione comes into the Common Room with her finished essay tucked under one arm. Upon noticing the crowd around Fred, she approaches and stares in curiosity. "How did you do that?"

He looks up at her through his eyelashes, innocent and maddening, with the most infuriating sort of smirk.

"What'll you give me if I show you, Granger?" He says. Their eyes meet, and for a brief, seemingly insignificant moment, the entire Common Room is filled with heat.

Nobody else seems to notice anything out of the ordinary, aside from George, of course.

And Ron.

A long moment passes before Hermione says, weakly, as if she's forgotten her lines, "A week's worth of detention."

Fred grins sloppily and leans back in his chair. His textbook shuts itself, catching her attention, but then her eyes are back on Fred, his chest, his hair, his smile, his _eyes –_

"Convince me, Granger."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"I'll run away with you."

"Huh?"

They are laying on their backs with their hands clasped, staring at the ceiling, but he turns to look at her. Her eyes are closed, her honey hair is splayed messily around her head, and she has an intoxicatingly beautiful smile on her lips.

"I'll run away with you." She repeats. "Is that convincing enough?"

It takes him a moment to realize what she's talking about, and once he does, he can't help the smile on his face. He props himself up on his elbow. "Right now?" He asks.

She laughs softly and touches a hand to his cheek. "So impatient." She murmurs. Pulling away, she continues, "I'd like to finish school first, obviously. And I have no intentions to abandon Harry in this war. But once it's all over, I can't think of anything better."

And suddenly, like a wonderful snowball to the face, he realizes that his is her promise of forever. He crushes her lips to hers hurriedly, fervently, and she throws her arm around his neck in response, kisses him back like that moment is all they have.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He dreams of her.

Dressed in white, just out of reach, laughing and twirling and taunting and enticing.

He supposes he should be embarrassed to be in so deep, but he doesn't care.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

She dreams of him.

There, grinning at her the way he does, warm and strong and comforting and distracting.

She supposes she should feel silly to be acting this way, but she doesn't care.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"Fred, why won't you listen to me? I don't want to be with him, not like _this –"_

"Everyone expects it, Hermione. It'll be blasphemous to even _suggest_ anything else…"

"It's really not _that_ surprising, honestly, and they'll get used to it – _George_ did –"

"George is always on my side! I don't want to get in the way of your _fate_ or whatever –"

"I don't _care_ about fate, I don't _care_ about Ron – Merlin, Fred, don't you _get_ it? I love _you!"_

Wide eyes. Silence.

Then, again, breaking: "I love you."

Kissing.

"I love you, too. Merlin, I…" kiss "…love…" kiss "…you. I love you."

Smiling. Kissing. Forgetting.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

It is late, and she is studying in the library with Harry. Ron had bailed early on in the evening after an argument with Hermione.

Harry yawns and pushes his Potions book away. He stretches, and when he catches her eye, he smiles sheepishly. "Sorry about Ron." He says. "He'll come around. He always does."

Hermione smiles weakly. Her pulse quickens when she thinks, _Harry would understand._

She tilts her head at him, rolling the idea around.

Would he tell Ron?

He wouldn't if she asked him not to.

Would he be upset?

He's Harry. He'd be happy for her.

Would he judge her?

Of course not. He's _Harry._

"Harry, I –"

But at the same moment, he says, "Once he realizes how much he fancies you, you'll be inseparable."

She glances away. With a deep breath, "Harry, I have something I need to tell you."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Ron stumbles, and the Quaffle drops from his hands. The Gryffindor team laughs as his face turns three shades redder, but their jokes are interrupted by the much more condescending laughter coming from the approaching Slytherin team.

Fred and George broaden their shoulders and lift their chins. Angelina and Katie glare. Harry and Ron narrow their eyes.

"Better be careful, Weasley." Malfoy sneers at Ron. "Your hands must get filthy from touching that _Mudblood_ so much."

Ron and Angelina yell, Katie is too stunned to move, George and Harry don't even try to hold him back, and Fred doesn't even think before his fist meets Malfoy's nose.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He gets back from detention late that night. She is waiting for him, curled up in a chair by the fire.

"I'm sorry." He blurts. "I didn't think – "

She grabs his hand and pulls him into the seat with her. With a content sigh, she rests her cheek on his shoulder and laces her fingers with his.

"Who told you?" He asks. He knows it is dangerous, being so close and so affectionate in the Common Room, but the majority of him doesn't care. There's another part of him that _wants_ everyone to find out.

"Ron." She answers. "And then George. Ron's version didn't involve you so much." She says, laughing, "but George set it straight afterwards."

He shifts so he can wrap his arm around her shoulder and pull her closer to him. They both stare at the fire, marveling at this thing called love.

"So you're not mad?"

"Mad?" She repeats, laughing even more loudly now, and he wonders if maybe she wants everyone to know, too. "I could've kissed George when he told me what you'd done."

"Hey! You already picked which twin you wanted."

"I know." She smiles smugly and brings her eyes to meet his.

 _I love her,_ he thinks.

"George never stood a chance."

Her smile fades then, and she says, "I told Harry."

"You did?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. He agreed not to say anything to Ron, and he said that he honestly wasn't _that_ surprised because of the way we – "

He laughs softly and kisses her hair. "It'll be nice to have someone on our side when everyone else finds out, won't it?"

They quiet. They both think of Ron.

Hoarsely, dreamlike, he says, "I love you far more than I'd like to admit."

"And I love you far more than I ever prepared to."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

It is his birthday.

There is a party in the Common Room for him and George, and surely someone – hell, _everyone_ would notice he and Hermione were missing.

But when she'd whispered her proposition in his ear, no part of him could say no.

So she leads him to the Room of Requirement, her hand in his and otherwise insatiable longings in their stomachs. They move down the hallways, practically floating, both thinking, _Am I ready for this?_ And then, _Oh, Merlin, I'm ready for this._

"Miss Granger. Mr. Weasley."

They skid to a stop and look innocently at Professor McGonagall. Hermione's face burns from shame, but Fred just grins.

Hermione knows that McGonagall isn't stupid. She must have figured it out, and Hermione wonders how she can stress to her how incredibly important it is that this is kept a secret, this huge part of her life, without blatantly admitting that she's in a relationship with a Weasley twin.

She shifts her weight uncomfortably, and Fred squeezes her hand. It makes things better.

"You'd best be getting back to your dorms if you want to avoid reduction of House Points."

Miraculously, they slip back into the party without looking too suspicious.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Fred does not know it, but the second week of April is his last week of bliss.

Wednesday night is the last time he gets to kiss her. Thursday morning is the last time he hears her laugh.

Thursday, during lunch, in his dorm, is when he tells her.

"You're leaving?" Her eyes widen. "Just – just like that?" She turns away so he can't see the tears in her eyes.

"Hermione," he says softly. Seeing her hurt kills him. "You – you can come with us. I'll talk to George before tonight, and we can –"

"No. I can't go with you, Fred. I have to stay here – for Harry, for Ron, for everyone else. I need – I need to finish school, I need to fight this war!"

"How is staying here helping anybody?" He demands. "What you're getting here, Hermione, it's not an education! Please….Hermione…" He reaches for her, but she backs away.

"You're a coward." She says, her voice shaking. They both know she doesn't mean it. "I can't just run away."

"You said you would."

Her eyes travel up to meet his. He is shaking with desperation. Hurt.

His eyes bore into hers. She is trembling with anger. Hurt.

Neither know what to say.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Multiple Gryffindors see Hermione storm out of the boys' dorms, crying, but George is the only one who knows why.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He thinks about writing her. When he's trying to fall asleep in the flat above the shop and he has nothing to distract him. When he feels like there's nothing in the world that can make him as happy as she did.

But he knows she'll never forgive him.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

She thinks about writing him. When she's trying to fall asleep, listening to her giggling roommates. When she feels achingly lonesome, despite being in a castle full of people. A lot of whom are fighting for the same cause as her.

But she knows she'll never forgive him.


	3. Part 3

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He gives her the paste for the bruise she'd received from the punching telescopes, and she takes it hesitantly, being very careful to make sure her fingers do not brush against his. It is the only interaction they have that summer beyond awkward smiles that neither of them mean.

As she leaves the store, she glances at him, hoping she can get a good stare without him noticing, but he is glancing at her at that same moment. Brown eyes meet blue eyes in a longing gaze, and they both understand.

They're both sorry, but neither of them want to talk about it.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He does try to write her. Only once, during the first semester of her sixth year. But all he can manage is _I can't stop thinking about you I hate this I hating being without you can we please go back to what we were I miss you like hell_ and he knows he can't send that. Not if he wants a chance.

So he keeps his letters in his nightstand drawer, along with various items that reminded him of her. Like a book of hers he'd found with his things. The case of color-changing ink she'd gotten for him after her original birthday present for him didn't work out. A short note she'd written him once (signed _Yours, Hermione)_ that still, after all this time, smelled faintly of her. A Muggle story by some bloke called Shakespeare, since she'd gone on and on about this _Hamlet_ fellow. And, of course, a growing pile of products he invented that were inspired by her.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"I'm worried about you."

Fred freezes, doesn't take his eyes off the inventory checklist he's going over. "You are?" He tries to sound casual, but his voice breaks. _Damn it._ "Why?"

"You know why, Fred."

He finally turns around and flinches at the dark expression on his twin's face. George shifts his weight.

Fred ducks his head, sighing. He drags his hand through his hair. "I know." He admits. "Knowing that she's still at Hogwarts, doing all the dangerous shit she does, that kills me. Knowing that she's spending all her time with Ron and other blokes who are interested in her, I'm not ecstatic about that. But I know she can handle anything. And I know that she'll make the right choices. She'll do what makes her happy." He stops and shakes his head, realizing he has no idea where he'll stop.

"Fred," George says, speaking gently now, "she wouldn't want you to be like this…"

Fred buries his face in his hands, groaning loudly. "She _hates_ me, and I'm in in _love_ with her. I'm in love with her and I never even got to tell her."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He expects it to get easier as it goes on. He expects missing her to gradually subside until it's just a distant memory. It doesn't.

Quite the opposite.

He sees her multiple times – during the holidays, over summer break – and each time, it makes his stomach clench. From the look on her face, he guesses she feels the same way. But they must be subtle. No one can know.

There is so much he wants to tell her, so much he wants to say, but it never feels like the right time and he can never put it into the right words.

She always was the eloquent one.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Over holiday break, he takes the first opportunity he can to pull Harry aside.

"How is she?" He asks earnestly. "How has she been?"

Harry studies Fred's face carefully, then sighs. "She's been all right. I think she misses you. But she's – she's still angry."

Fred nods, giving the younger boy a sad smile. "I expected nothing less. She's my stubborn little Gryffindor, after all."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

"You're not very subtle."

Fred glances over his shoulder at the sound of her voice, his face sobering. He looks back up at the evening sky and lets out a deep sigh. So she _had_ noticed him leave.

"You're going to miss the New Year's Eve party." He tells her.

"So are you." She retorts, taking a seat next to him. He desperately wants to touch her hand, but she has her arms folded and her shoulders hunched.

He stares at her. "I couldn't handle it."

"Handle what?"

"You." He says honestly. "And Ron. I didn't want to see you two…" He trails off, knowing that if he keeps talking, his voice will break.

She laughs lightly. Damn, he misses her. "You're still worried about that, are you? Fred…it's not like that between Ron and me. It never has been and it never will be."

"That's not what he thinks." Fred tells her. "You know, you're making this whole 'getting-over-you' thing a lot harder. Not that it wasn't plenty hard in the first place." He adds hastily.

She chews at her lip. "I'm still angry with you."

"I know."

"I still love you."

"I know."

She looks at him. Finally. "But – we can't…Not with the war…A-and everything—"

Softer this time, "I know."

She doesn't go inside until 12:02 and when she does, she whispers that she's sorry and scrambles to get up and Fred shivers.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He doesn't get to see to her again until the week before Bill and Fleur's wedding. She shows up at the shop just before closing. When she finds the door locked, she raps her knuckles on the window.

"We're closed." Fred shouts. He's leaning at the counter, taking inventory.

"Even for me?"

Even with her voice muffled, he can tell it's her.

He nearly trips over the displays trying to get to the door quickly enough, and when he swings it open, she is breathing heavily. Later, he finds out it is because she ran here.

"Hermione," he says.

"Fred," she breathes back. "Can I come in?"

Wordlessly, he opens the door even wider, and she pushes past him. "What are you doing here?" He asks, following her. He winces at how harsh it sounds. "I mean – is something wrong?"

"We're leaving." She says. At his blank stare, she continues, "I c-can't say why, but I wanted to tell you because I thought I owed it to you. We're leaving. Soon. Even – " Her breath catches, as if she's about to cry. "Even earlier than you did." She laughs softly. "Any of us could die. I could very likely die in this war. You could die. Harry could die. It's…it's a little overwhelming. Terrifying, I'll admit."

He isn't sure how to comfort her, because to tell the truth, he's terrified, too.

She takes a deep breath. "But that's not why I came here tonight."

He pauses. He wonders if she has any idea how he feels about her. "Then why?"

"I don't want to die without—" She stops herself. "I don't want to—" She stops again, smiling embarrassedly at the ceiling. Refusing to meet his gaze, she inquires with a pink tint to her cheeks, "Do you remember what I was originally planning on giving you for your birthday?"

He stares at her. "Yes…"

"My birthday is coming up in September, you know."

There is one moment of utter disbelief before he closes the space between them and, with his hand at the back of her neck, he kisses her hard.

"Are you sure?" He whispers.

"Positive."

From the look in her eyes, the way she's biting her lip, he knows he doesn't have time to waste. He lifts her easily and sets her on the counter. As they explore each other's mouths, his hands toy with the hem of her shirt. Her hands are clasped around his neck, tugging on his hair.

He moves from her lips to her neck, and he gives no mercy.

She hikes her breath in shakily, whimpering his name.

When he pulls away to look at her, she tosses her shirt aside, and, in a hurried motion, helps him remove his.

Panting heavily, she latches onto his mouth. His hands travel up and down her bared skin, and when his fingers brush across a sensitive spot on her hip, she gasps.

When she does, he smiles against her lips, emitting a sound that is wholly possessive and startlingly eager. He pulls her off of the counter, impossibly closer to him.

"Fred," She says suddenly, breathlessly, "Maybe we should go upstairs."

They do.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 _"Well?"_

"We shagged. Twice."

"Bloody hell."

"Keep your voice down, George. She's asleep."

 _"Here?"_

"Yes."

 _"Bloody hell!"_

"George!"

"Sorry."

"Fred? Are you awake?"

"Coming, love."


	4. Part 4

Molly flits around the kitchen, rambling about food and wedding dresses and love. "William Weasley, our oldest son – _married!"_

Fred and George stand in their dress robes, identical grins on their faces. They've been forced to promise that no harmful pranks would occur.

"Next it will be _Percy,_ and then – well, Harry and Ginny, I imagine – and Ron and Hermione, of course!"

George follows his twin out of the kitchen, having noticed the sudden disappearance of his smile. "Fred, wait!" He says. "She doesn't know. You know that. She doesn't have any idea."

"I know." Fred says. "I know that. But when she does…" He trails off, now drowning in whatever horrors he imagines will ensue once his and Hermione's secret comes to light.

George wants to tell him that everything will be fine, but he's never lied to his twin before.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

When she walks into the tent in that lavender dress, his mouth drops open.

He thought he loved her when she was fifteen, he really did, but that's only because he hadn't known her when she was eighteen. It is hard for him to stare at her, knowing he can't have her, but it is even harder to look away.

George elbows him. "Gawking's not a good look for you, Freddie." He teases.

Fred figures that sneaking in one dance won't look too suspicious, but Ron and Molly give the couple odd looks anyway.

"I'm sorry I left." He says in a low voice.

"I'm sorry I'm leaving."

He fights the urge to kiss her forehead. He leans forward just slightly so his breath tickles her ear.

"I got you something."

"You – what?"

He twirls her under his arm and moves in a half-circle so her back is to Ron. Keeping on hand on her back, he fishes a box out of his pocket. "Open it when you're alone. No promises or anything, I know – it's just so you don't forget about me."

She is fighting back tears. "Forgetting about you was never an option, Fred Weasley."

Ron is still eyeing them.

Later that evening, he spots her wearing a new silver chain. The end of it disappears beneath the bodice of her dress, but he knows for a fact that the pendant is in the shape of a fox. He chuckles when he sees her slip the now-empty box into her purse. Who's impatient now?

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Ron reappears a few days before Christmas. At the sight of him, Fred and George nearly drop the boxes of Christmas decorations they're carrying.

"Ron?" Fred's voice is surprisingly hoarse. "What are you doing here? Where are -?"

"They're still – I left."

There is a crash as Fred's box of ornaments falls to the floor. "You _what?"_

"I couldn't handle it!" Ron yells.

"You couldn't _handle_ it?" Fred roars back. "So you just _left?"_ He whips out his wand and Ron jumps for cover, but Fred does not point it at him. "Where are they?" He demands.

"I-I don't know." Ron stammers. "I didn't…"

Growling, Fred casts a silent and quick _Reparo_ on the broken ornaments and storms out of the room.

Ron glares at Fred's retreating back. "What's _his_ problem?"

George studies his youngest brother's face for a long moment before sighing heavily. "Ron, I think we need to talk."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He holds the folded piece of paper out awkwardly, refusing to meet her perturbed glare.

"This is from Fred." He says. "He wanted to come back with me, but he couldn't – for a lot of reasons."

Her eyes widen, and she snatches the letter from his hand. "He _told_ you?"

"No. George did. He…" Ron sucks in air and scratches his head. "He told me everything. Fifth year, eh?"

"I didn't – we – I…"

"You don't need to apologize, Hermione. I get it. And – and I'm going to try my best to be happy for you two, but I can't promise anything right now." Then, with an uneasy smile, he adds, "And you don't need to worry about getting back at George. F-Fred's already got plenty of pranks lined up."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 _Hermione,_

 _Well, we got that one over with._

 _Look, I know that you don't want to make any promises. I know you've told me countless times not to worry, but I've come to the conclusion that being ardently and madly in love with someone is enough cause to worry, even if they're not the No. 2 Desirable on the run whilst under the reign of the Dark Lord. So I'm going to worry about you, just like I know you're worrying about me._

 _Please be safe. Look out for Ron and Harry. And just in case one of us does die, I want you to know that I love you and I've never stopped loving you and I reckon I'm going to love for a bloody long time._

 _Yours,_

 _Fred_

 _P.S. You don't need to worry about hexing George into next Sunday for telling Ron. I've already hidden exactly twelve Exploding Bonbons around his room and I'm charming his favorite cereal to make the eater dance uncontrollably. Should be a right laugh._

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He dreams of her.

Dressed in black, just within reach, sobbing and shaking, pushing him away, always pale and always wounded.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, there are tear stains on his pillow.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

She dreams of him.

Far away, looking so uncharacteristically somber, staring and trembling, always cold and always dusty.

Sometimes, when she wakes up, she is clutching the locket tightly in her hand.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He wishes they could go back to what they are.

She doesn't even know _what_ they were.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

When she thinks Harry and Ron are asleep, she clutches the radio to her chest and listens to the sound of his voice. She prays to deities she isn't sure she believes in, saying that she'll do anything, _anything_ , if he makes it through this war.

Ron snores loudly. She glances at him, barely able to make out his shape in the darkness, and she wonders how she and Fred will ever be able to make it work. If they lose. Hell, if they win.

Hermione has read countless stories featuring love, but she still isn't sure what it's supposed to look like. Or feel like. She only has a few ideas that she has trouble connecting, which frustrates her. It's like having a few scraps of a map but not being sure which corner goes where. Not even knowing what the map was _of._

She realizes one night while clutching her locket that every single scrap has been given to her by Fred.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

They only see each other once more before the Final Battle. He freezes in his spot when their eyes lock, and she takes a few steps towards him.

"Fred." She says. As if it is as natural as breathing.

"Hermione, I…" He starts, not even knowing where the sentence is going. I love you, maybe. I've always loved you. I want nothing more than to spend forever with you but we might not have forever because dear Merlin, we're all about to die.

But she grabs his arm, stopping him. "Please don't." There are tears in her eyes. "I can't – I can't…" She hiccups. "I love you, okay? I never stopped loving you. But…"

He nods, understanding. Truly, he does. He reaches forward, hoping he can hold her one last time, but she is swept away quickly in the crowd, with Ron grasping her elbow and Harry glancing back only once at Fred, and then George grabs Fred's wrist and pulls him in the opposite direction. Hermione glances back to meet Fred's gaze one more time. She is smiling brightly at him, and he knows that she's telling the truth. It wasn't over. It never ended.

This is their last interaction.

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 **Last part will be up soon! Thanks for all the support!**


	5. Part 5

Fred wakes up one week, six days, fourteen hours, and twenty-eight minutes after the Battle.

The small white hospital room is occupied only by himself and George, who is sleeping fitfully in a plastic chair when Fred awakes. When Fred says his name, albeit weakly, George jolts awake and begins sobbing and yelling incoherently.

But Fred definitely hears, "Hermione is going to be bloody pissed off that she missed this!"

As it turns out, Hermione had been in the hospital for nine days herself, but since being discharged, she's been in Fred's room nearly as much as George has. The reason for her absence now? She'd been sent out to get lunch for herself, George, and Molly.

Fred has several broken ribs, an incredibly nasty bruise on his left side, and gashes on his left arm. George informs him, slowly, that they've lost Percy, Remus, Tonks, Snape, and more. That Harry has lost the vision in his right eye and is slowly regaining the use of his right arm. That Ron has a burn on his neck that nearly paralyzed him and a large gash on his cheek.

"And Hermione?" Fred croaks. "How is she? Is she okay?"

At that precise moment, the door slams open and Hermione rushes in, tossing a paper bag at George and pouncing on Fred, kissing his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth.

"Fred," she says through her tears, over and over again, "Fred, Fred, Fred, Fred…" As if it as natural as breathing.

"Merlin, Hermione," George laughs, "You're going to suffocate him."

"I don't know, Georgie," Fred says, managing a goofy grin between kisses, "This would be quite the way to go."

Hermione laughs at that. Pushing her hair back, she says, "We won."

And that grin on her face is unrivaled by any other.

She has a nasty bruise on her left cheek, he notices, a bandage on her forehead, and another on her shoulder, but other than that, she seems fine. Better than fine. Radiant.

"Am I okay?" Fred asks.

"You will be." Hermione says quickly. "You'll need a lot of physical therapy to help you walk again, but you'll be fine."

"You gave us quite the scare, Freddie," George says. "We thought you were a goner, but it was, of course, your Hermione who clung to you long enough to figure out that your heart was still beating. Which reminds me…" He winks at a now sheepish looking Hermione. "Everyone knows about you two now. Bill says 'congratulations' and Charlie says 'nicely done' and Ginny says 'why the bloody hell didn't anyone tell me' and –"

"George, why don't you go find your mother and tell her Fred's awake?" Hermione interrupts, smiling gently at George.

When the door clicks softly behind his twin, Fred smirks at the witch in front of him.

"So," he says, feigning casualness, "I hear you were worried about me."

She still hasn't stopped smiling at him. "I'm really glad you're okay, Fred."

"Hermione," He says. "You still love me, don't you?"

Her expression grows soft. "Yes, Fred," she says quietly, "I do."

"Then hurry up and kiss me, woman, before I slip back into a coma!"

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Fred leans heavily on his cane, grateful that Hermione has a firm grasp on his other arm. The words, which he has been rolling around on his tongue for a (rather agonizing) few weeks now, stumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"I know you said you weren't sure if we could do it with the war going on, but now that it's over…"

She glances up in surprise, but smiles quickly. "Yes, Fred. I will be your girlfriend."

"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend."

"You're not?" Confusion ripples across her features.

"To be quite frank, Hermione…" He pauses to shift himself with a grunt, "The two years I spent without you have been the worst years of my life. If you're not too scared and if you're still in love with me, I'm asking you to marry me."

She stares at him in awe, unable to form a coherent thought.

"I know I'm a right bit banged up, but it looks like George is too so you're really out of options, and I'm not that keen on watching you marry some other bloke anyway, so…"

She cuts him off by kissing him, nearly knocking him off his feet and into the grass. He wraps one arm around her waist and kisses her as fiercely as he can. He can't stop himself from smiling broadly against her lips, and she laughs.

"Convince me, Weasley."

He smirks. "I'm assuming the answer isn't a week's worth of detention?"

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

She has nightmares – of Voldemort, of Malfoy Manor, of the horrible days she spent with a demonic piece of jewelry around her neck, draining her.

She'll thrash and scream in her sleep until suddenly, the dream-like past begins to melt away because he is whispering soothingly to her. She sobs and trembles in his arms, her heart thrumming in her chest, until all she can see is his bare chest and their dimly-lit bedroom.

And then she says, usually in a whisper, "I'm so sorry. Thank you. I love you so much."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

He has nightmares – of the Battle, of his friends and family dying, of him dying, of the horrible days he spent not knowing whether or not she was alive.

He'll shake and cry out in his sleep until suddenly, the dark images of days gone by begin to melt away because she is grasping his hands, whispering soothingly to him. He shakes and holds her close, his breath much too fast, until all he can see is her worried eyes and their dimly-lit bedroom.

And then he says, usually in a whisper, "I'm so sorry. Thank you. I love you so much."

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

Their children do not fully understand. They do not know anything except for the scars scattered on their mother's arms and the cane their father needs to use if he has to walk for too long and the stories they'll hear in school about how their parents and aunts and uncles saved the world.

She tells him softly that it is better this way. That their children will never have to suffer like they did. That they won't need to know firsthand what war is like.

And they are both endlessly grateful, knowing that they almost lost each other. He knows what it is like to suffer without her at his side, and she knows what it is like to not know whether she'll still have him the next morning. Perhaps this is the reason that he clutches her hand just a little too tightly, the reason that she grasps his arm for longer than necessary.

They are no longer broken. Their scars heal because that's what bodies do. Their memories heal because that's what time does. And their hearts heal because once he has hers again and she has his again, there is no reason for pain anymore.

Yet they still ache, their hearts, but in a wonderful sort of way. The sort of way she feels when she watches him, with that small smile she gets without even noticing, and she realizes how close they came to not having this. To not having each other. The thought twists her chest unpleasantly, and she grabs onto him.

"What if it hadn't happened like this?" She asks him softly. His blue eyes bore into hers imploringly, and she continues. "What if one of us had died, or if we never forgave each other, or we - ?"

And he laughs faintly, gently, gently kissing her forehead, and he tells her, "That's the best part, I suppose. We'll never have to know."


End file.
